


House of cards

by beckly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (be mindful of warnings), Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Redevelopment of Past Relationships, Sadstuck, Suicide Attempt, drug overdose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckly/pseuds/beckly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His relationship with John never met closure, so he found that closure himself.</p>
<p>John already gone for 7 years, Dave decided to tie up the loose ends and finally say goodbye to the memory of his closest childhood friend and potential lover. Finished with the missing person posters and the vigils, he moved on with his life. Now age 26, working at a hospital held in high regard, most things in order, life is as good as it can get.</p>
<p>The possibility of John turning up never came to his mind.</p>
<p>And when he does, he comes in on a gurney, being rolled into the hospital he works at, for the account of a heroin overdose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First card

**Author's Note:**

> much needed redo of pins and (dirty) needles

In a hospital situated in New York, The ICU waiting room donned stiff, maroon plastic chairs, and equally stiff visitors. Faces either bleak or apprehensive, nail-biters and nervous twitching, to the marble statues, unmoving and cold to the touch. The array of people you’d never see together, crammed into a small room with a poor assortment of magazines and a shoddy TV on the top right corner of the room, it was somehow harmonious. Being the nurse/clerk staffed at the desk for their shift usually had whoever sitting there see every emotion on the spectrum possible, and the task itself did need the ability to be stable, completely in check and calm. These requirements were unsaid, not muttered or whispered, but people learnt as people went along. Being a nurse was chaotic enough but being a desk clerk would leech the last of anyone’s energy off. Shifts rotated every now and then, and the same old same old of the relieved sighs and the curses of the unfortunate soul that manned the desk for that day. Whatever new medical student or transfer from another hospital who slipped into that particular department raised their eyebrows and asked the forbidden question of: “How bad can it be?”. This is usually met with a blank face, a scowl, shake of the head, or a ‘hoo boy’. Most dismiss it at first, but their first shift at the desk comes by and soon they fall into the crowd of the ‘termites’, the name coined by the other departments.

Dave Strider, a transfer from a Texas hospital, fell into the same routine. A dusty blonde, tall, wiry male who seldom appreciates the nickname that doctors and nurses pin at him for laughs. He’s caught in the gist of things, adjusted to the usual chaos an ICU could offer, but he’s disorientated today, the atmosphere around him dimmed. Assigned to the care unit today, he silently dreaded the evening ahead. He took the feeling with a pinch of salt, and he clocked himself in.

 

_9:00 PM, Saturday, Hansen County Hospital (HCH) ICU Unit_

 

Night shift was usually the time where the ‘brouhaha’ peaked, to why Dave chose this time was mystery to even himself, but with a shrug, he went about his work. He tended to the comatose patients first, the majority of the unit was just that, and he couldn’t say he loved them. A variety of strangers, some would wake and some wouldn’t, some laid there with a blank face and a beating heart, and that’s it. Excitement came in small, but taxing doses, whether a patient acted up or some weak soul fainted. For Saturday, it held promise for trouble, weekends being the time where stunts are pulled and DUIs come in ambulances rather than police cars. He strolled up and down the halls of the ICU department, checked in with each patient, made notes and was done in a half hour. During that, one was wheeled out, someone who was diagnosed ‘Persistent Vegetative State’ to be put on life support elsewhere, and another wheeled in, someone who was in a car accident. A new face to see during rounds, and this didn’t give any elation to Dave, but it did spruce it up a bit. He felt a nib of guilt for dismissing them as objects rather than people, but he put that aside and convinced himself this is normal for a job in this field. (he could feel the term ‘rationalization’ pop up in the back of his mind, but ignored it) From there, time passed on relatively slowly, but the small hand soon met the eleven on the clock and it was time for break.

 

_12:00 PM, Saturday, HCH Employee Lounge_

 

“Desk shift, hoo-ray.” A nurse turned desk clerk, Danny, deadpanned with a sneer to the water bogged salad from the hospital cafeteria.

“Yikes, did you get any rough ones?” Another nurse, Effie, asked, scooping some pudding into her mouth.

“Just some teenagers, trying to find their friend who was just in a pile-up on Roderick Street.” Danny replied, poking at their salad with a grimace. Dave recalled the person on the gurney, and the same guilt threatened to wash over him, but he adamantly refused the thought. “The kids aren’t going to be happy when they realized he sustained serious brain damage.”

“Really unlucky to be assigned on a weekend.” Effie said.

“No need to state the obvious.” Danny said, as he tossed the disappointing excuse for greens into the trashcan. Dave watched as Effie disposed of her pudding cup and followed suit. He took a look at the meatball sub special and nudged it aside; he reached the agreement with himself that he wasn’t hungry. He dumped the sandwich into the trashcan and ended his break. By the time he came back more beds have filled up; two more people, one with severe asthma, and another car accident. Checked off in a matter of minutes and once again left to dwell, he left the area and decided to find some company to keep his mind off things; if they really needed him, they’d call.

 

His first trek was to the department Rose was in, the Mental Health Department. A brightly decorated hallway lined with offices, oriental rugs and waiting room in plain sight. It’s late, only so many people sat in the leather chairs, mostly ranged from young adults to middle aged, all appeared tired in some way or another. It’s a far cry from what he sees daily, and for a moment he envied Rose. He stepped up to her office, and knocked. No answer, but he could hear someone inside.

“Rose, I know you’re in there.” Dave spoke.

“What? No, there’s no one named Rose in here.” A voice came.

“Rose.”

“You must be hearing things termite- Dave.”

“Rose.” Dave put emphasis instead of deadpan on her name, and the door opened. A short, blonde (similar to Dave’s), stocky woman dressed in a blue Oxford shirt, a pencil skirt and a scarf, stood in the doorway.

“Your sense of humor is lacking.” Rose said, crossing her arms.

“You have the humour of a ten year old.”

Rose thought for a moment, “Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, good to know,” She nodded her head, “That aside, what brings you here?” That’s where some hesitation, even some regret, came along as the question was prompted. He felt like a pane of glass in this moment.

“I just wanted to chat,” He shrugged, trying his best to appear nonchalant, “Nothing more.” Her eyes scanned up and down, and he could already feel cold sweat beading at his forehead.

“Well, come in.” She stepped aside, her hand motioned to the couch. Dave felt like he was being drawn into a trap, but he stepped inside and Rose closed the door behind him. They both get themselves seated and conversation sparked, he wondered why he was even nervous in the first place. That went on for 40 minutes, casual conversation without fail, and then:

“Dave, are you alright?” Rose questioned, eyebrows scrunched together as a expression of concern. He put his guard up as quickly as he put it down, one leg crossed over the other and hands folded in his lap.

“Yeah, why?” Dave responded, tone carefully chosen and word pronounced clearly. He already appeared suspicious, and Rose didn’t need to speak to show she wasn’t convinced.

“I’ve walked by your department and you’ve been pretty apprehensive, are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, just fine.” His voice came out more forceful than intended, but it got his point across. Rose still didn’t appear budge from whatever internal summary she made from the encounter, but she heaved a sigh and got to her feet.

“I have a Skype call with one of my patients psychiatrist’s,” She straightened and dusted off her skirt and eyed the door, a signal for Dave to leave. Dave gladly stood and went over to the door, “But.” He froze, hand on the knob.

“But?” Dave turned his head in question, to at least have sight of her.

“You need to check in with me after the call, in about an hour.” She said, authority edged in her voice. Dave couldn’t repress a childish, exasperated groan, shoulders sagged and eyes rolled to the side, and Rose ended up with a firm scowl on her face.  
“Dave, I’m serious.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware,” He did quotation marks when he said ‘aware’, ”of your seriousness.”

“Dave, don’t be juvenile-” Before Rose could continue on the said statement, Dave already whisked the door open, went through it, and closed it shut behind him, making a beeline to the elevator. The ‘up’ button was pushed, the doors slid open, and he went inside. A nurse with a man in a wheelchair were his lone company for his ride. He wedged himself into the corner, jabbed the ‘Level GR’ button and the ‘Close Doors’ button. The elevator shuts close and the elevator lurched upwards. He checked his watch; It was already Sunday, 1:40 AM. As soon as the time was established, his thoughts went back to Rose.  
“Juvenile.” He repeated underneath his breath. He briefly remembered the presence of the two beside him, and darted his gaze to the two in hopes that they haven’t heard. Both were staring right at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly pursed his lips and focused unnecessarily hard on the doors. He wished they’d open already.

 

_1:21 AM, Sunday, Ambulance Dispatch No.13 (Unspecified Location)_

“Inject the Naloxone intramuscularly!” One of the paramedics spat, who attempted to hold down the ankles of the man on the gurney while he convulsed, the straps being of no help. The sirens screeched outside, the wild twists and turns of the speeding vehicle made him lose his grip. The loose paramedic slammed into the wall of the ambulance with an anguished cry, the other two struggled to keep the patient safe and to assure the safety of their co worker.

“A-Are you ok-” One attempted to reach out to them, but the one on the ground snatched the vial and the needle from them and forced himself to his feet.

“I’m fine, don’t get yourself distracted.” He hissed as they hiked over and slid the needle into the patient's bicep, being able to manage to keep their arm still for those few seconds. “Now, reinforce the straps on the gurney, the ride won’t be much longer.” He spoke, while they disposed of the medical paraphernalia. The two who were ordered simply nodded and followed the command, while the other one picked up the ID on the ground. They eyed the information: Male, 25 years old, a typical candidate for a heroin overdose.

“We’re about to pull in.” A fellow paramedic announced. He nodded, and turned his eye to the info card once more. It didn’t take long before the doors were yanked open, and his last words before he was done with him were:

“I wonder what’s your story, John Egbert.”

 

_1:57 AM, Sunday, HCH ER Entrance_

 

Dave found himself to wander when deep in thought, and here he turned up. As soon as the doors opened, he just made circles on this particular floor and no progress made, he’s left frustrated. He’s not even sure why he’s on this floor, he has no business here. A common pattern for him was being in places he shouldn’t be, and this statement stood evident right there and then. A glance around and he could make out an ambulance about to pull in. Well aware now this could mean he should get his ass back up in the ICU, he pivoted on the ball of his foot to head back to the elevator, but he stopped himself short. Curiosity got the best of him and he stuck around for the commotion outside to start. Tucked away behind a pillar, he could make out some loud exchanges and some affirmations (he could tell easily by the tone of their voices) and the doors swung open. 

“Turn his head to the side!” A woman barked, “Wouldn’t be great if he choked on his own vomit!” Dave caught a good view of the scene, exactly three people manned the sides as the gurney was pushed. The person on it though, was hard to see. The one whose back is towards Dave obscured the view.

“Give me a break!” Snarled another man, who then called, “Who has the ID on this person?” Dave sat back, significantly uninterested now. He’ll go up in a few minutes, they’ll be in the ER for a while. Down the hall, he could hear the answer to the man’s question.

“John Egbert, Age 25, Male, Heroin Overdose...” A previous woman responded, and all other conversation faded as they slipped into the ER. It took him a moment to process that.

His world was quick to crumble after that.


	2. reminder

as the author of this work, i will still be working on this, but my time between posting will be prolonged due to my stay at a boarding school  
ill be working on chapter two though :U


End file.
